And In Short, I Was Afraid
by Tyraa Rane
Summary: Sasha and Milla, about to conclude an extended, extremely boring business trip to London, may find that the city still has a few surprises left... [SashaxMilla]


_Disclaimer: DoubleFine rocks, Tim Schafer is our king, and I'm just borrowing. The end. Please don't sue. This fic was written by request for another Psychonauts fic writer who asked for a sequelfic wherein Sasha and Milla get together. It has absolutely nothing to do with "Two to Tango._"

* * *

_"Do I dare  
Disturb the universe?"  
_ -- T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

** And In Short, I Was Afraid**

"This will only take a minute, darling, I promise." Milla unlocked the door to her room and breezed inside, tossing her coat on the unmade bed on her way to the bathroom. Sasha followed her inside but preferred to stay by the door, meticulously wiping every last raindrop off of his sunglasses.

"Milla, is this entirely necessary? We're already running late."

There was a long, drawn-out sigh from the bathroom. "I know, I'm sorry...but this weather is just murder on my hair, you know, and if I don't do something about it now it'll only get worse..."

"But it will still be raining when we leave for dinner, and when we leave dinner, and--well, I don't exactly see the point."

She wandered back out into the room, head tilted to the side, a hairbrush halfway through her long dark hair. "_You've _obviously never had long hair," she answered teasingly, although she frowned when the brush snagged on a particularly nasty tangle. "But if you really want, you could call Sergei and Charles and tell them we're running late. The phone...actually, I'm not sure where the phone is. Try looking under the nightstand." She shrugged and wandered back into the bathroom, still fighting with her hair. Sasha, meanwhile, took one look at the mess by the nightstand and decided it was best to not get involved.

After a few minutes, Milla re-emerged, her hair having been thoroughly brushed and detangled. "All right," she said, picking up her coat, "let's go."

They headed back out into the damp London weather and managed to catch the Undergroundjust in time, much to Sasha's surprise. Once they were seated and the train was underway, Milla turned to him and smiled. "You see, darling? I told you it wouldn't take long." He just sighed and didn't say anything, not wanting to admit defeat.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet and uneventful, a description that could easily be applied to most of the month they'd spent in London. In fact, aside from a few days when it stopped raining for more than a few hours at a time, even Sasha would be forced to call it downright _boring_.

"Charles, darling!" Milla waved over the heads of several slightly confused Londoners to the tall, lanky man standing just outside the restaurant, lit cigarette in hand. "It's so good to see you--how did the mission in France go?" she asked as soon as they got closer.

Charles smiled and offered her a warm handshake, although he just inclined his head politely to Sasha. "Oh, it went well enough. Nothing you'll be reading about in the papers, mind, but...well enough. How have you two been? Everything's still in one piece back at the office, I hope?" Putting out his cigarette, he held open the restaurant door for them both and then offered Milla his arm once they were inside. She accepted it with a faint smile.

"Of course it is. In fact, we're almost done here."

"Our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon," Sasha added, trailing along behind them, "just as soon as we're through with the last of the meetings."

"Meetings..." Charles shook his head, a few stray locks of auburn hair falling into his eyes. "If I didn't know better I'd say that Agent Zanotto of yours was trying to bore you to death. Promise me you've at least had a chance to see some of the countryside since I last saw you?"

"I have, but I couldn't talk Sasha into going."

Frowning, Charles turned to make some remark or another to Sasha, but they arrived at their table before he could say anything. Instead they went through another round of greetings and small talk, since Sergei was there waiting for them, and then after that it was all down to business.

Dinner finished late, hours after the sun had set, and although they'd finished all the business they had to discuss halfway through, Charles and Milla kept lingering over a number of topics. Sergei and Sasha mainly stared at one another in stony silence, feeling excluded from the other conversation but not particularly willing to start one of their own. It wasn't until after Sasha had cleared his throat and Sergei had looked pointedly at his watch for a third time that they managed to pay the bill and get as far as the pavement outside. The rain had settled down to a faint mist, but for once Milla wasn't complaining about what the damp weather was doing to her hair--she was too wrapped up in conversation with Charles.

Finally, Sergei let out a very dramatic sigh and latched onto Charles's arm. "Charlie, do you think we could move this along? They have a plane to catch tomorrow."

"Oh, all right..." Charles rolled his eyes and then took Milla's hands in his, smiling. "I'm sorry for keeping you both so late."

"It's no trouble darling, really." She did, however, shoot Sasha a nervous glance out of the corner of one eye, as if trying to gauge the truth of what she'd said. "We just don't see you often enough."

"Then you'll just have to come back. Soon, I'd hope. I promise London isn't as boring as this trip has made it out to be--you should visit again the next time you have a decent amount of vacation time. I know a charming place up in Wales that you'd love..."

She blushed and tried to cover it up by laughing a little louder than usual. "I'll...I'll see what I can do, darling."

"Good. Have a safe trip home." He paused and added as an afterthought, "And you as well, Agent Nein."

"I'm sure we will. Thank you. Now, Milla, we should be going."

They said the last of their goodbyes and then separated, Sergei dragging Charles down the street in the opposite direction Sasha and Milla were headed. Sasha looked at his watch on their way down the steps to the Underground and shook his head. "That went later than I expected. It's almost midnight."

Milla sighed, looping her arm through his. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, darling. But it was nice to see Charles again, wasn't it?"

"It would have been nicer if he'd kept to business," he answered, sounding tenser than he'd intended. She sighed again and steered him onto the proper subway car.

"Oh, you just don't know him well, that's all. Besides, we're going home tomorrow--I think we've earned the right to relax a little."

"Our work isn't finished yet."

"It's close enough."

The rest of the ride was conducted in silence, broken only by the occasional noise from what few other passengers there were and reminders to "mind the gap." They were still one stop away from the hotel when Milla suddenly stood up and tugged on his jacket sleeve.

"Come on, this is our stop."

Sasha looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "No it isn't."

"Yes it is," she answered, grinning and dragging him out of his seat and towards the door.

"Milla, we've been on this route hundreds of times before, and I can assure you--"

She pulled him all of the way out of the car just as the doors slid shut. "Tonight, darling, this is our stop. Now come on; I don't want to drag you the whole way."

She started for the exit and Sasha, sighing, trailed along behind her. "This is because I didn't go to Dover with you, isn't it."

"Mmm...maybe."

"Would you at least tell me where it is we're going?"

At the top of the stairs that led out onto the street, she paused for a few moments to consider this. It was raining a little harder than before, which prompted her to come to a decision sooner, rather than later. "No. But it's not far, I promise."

He sighed again. "Milla..." She just tossed him a slightly impish grin over her shoulder and continued down the street.

True to her word, they didn't have far to walk--she only led him as far as a few city blocks and then around a corner to a small, off-the-beaten path sort of pub. Sasha took one look at it and shook his head.

"Milla, I don't think--"

"Nonsense, darling. It's a wonderful little place, and you need to relax." She opened the door and motioned towards the darkened interior, giving him a rather pointed look. "You were tense all through dinner, I could tell. Besides, when was the last time you did something that had absolutely nothing to do with work?"

He frowned. "Last night. I was sleeping."

She pointed at the door. "Inside. Now."

Sasha had the feeling that if he didn't do what she said in short order he'd be dragged around by his jacket sleeve again. And since he had no desire whatsoever to repeat that experience, he gave up and walked inside.

Milla did have a point, though, he had to admit. He was no expert on pubs, but this one, populated only by a faint touch of smoke and a handful of patrons who looked like regulars, seemed rather nice as pubs went. Across from the bar there was a raised stage for a live band, although there was none playing at the moment. The rest of the room was devoted to a wide scattering of tables and chairs and, near the back, a currently unoccupied but very well-worn pool table. Milla ordered their drinks--the bartender had a Scottish brogue so thick Sasha had trouble understanding him at first--and then steered him towards one of the back tables.

They settled in, Milla with her usual cosmopolitan and Sasha with his martini, and lapsed into an awkward silence. The door swung open and a man walked in; he spotted Milla and waved to her before settling in with a small group of friends waiting for him near the front of the room.

"You're something of a regular here, I take it," Sasha remarked, absently toying with the olive stuck to the side of his glass.

She nodded. "I stop in every so often."

"You've never mentioned it."

"You never asked." She grinned at him over the top of her glass, leaning back in her chair. Sasha shook his head at her.

"How did you find out about this place? It's a bit...out of the way."

A few more patrons wandered in, laughing and shaking the rain from their clothes before settling down at the bar. Milla watched them for a while before answering. "Oh, Sergei mentioned it once. Some of the agents used to stop here all the time before their office moved."

"Ah. I thought Charles might have..."

"Oh, no," she said, nervously fiddling with a stray lock of hair. "This isn't really his thing, you know."

"I see."

Silence fell again after that. Milla cleared her throat once, as if she had something she wanted to say, but when Sasha made eye contact with her she looked back down at her drink like it had never happened. She spent some time after that watching the bar's other patrons and generally looking everywhere but at him until, when her drink was already half gone, she tried conversation again.

"So, darling. How do you suppose they're surviving without us back home?"

He shrugged. "Well enough, I'd imagine. I'm sure they would have told us if anything serious came up."

"Right." She traced a thin line of perspiration down her glass with one delicate, white-gloved finger. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"Yes?"

"I think Charles was right...we haven't had a vacation since--since before that incident with Morceau. I've been thinking that maybe I should request some leave when we get back."

Sasha's back stiffened imperceptibly and he sat up even straighter than usual, staring down into the bottom of his drink. "Wales?"

She looked up, blinking. "Hmm?"

"Wales," he said again. "Agent Davidson invited you to visit Wales with him. Is that where you were thinking of going?"

Milla stared at him for a few seconds, a faint blush creeping over her face, then laughed. "Oh, no--of course not, darling! Charles is a good friend, but I'd never--oh god, no. Besides, we've been stuck here for a month...I'd rather go somewhere where it didn't rain so much, if I went anywhere at all. I was thinking more of painting my kitchen. It needs it." She smiled and took a long drink from her cosmo.

He relaxed, finishing off the rest of his drink with an expression that could best be described as slightly sheepish. "I see. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to presume--"

She laughed again. "No, it's all right, darling. I can see where you'd...well, never mind." She shook her head. "I think we both need a vacation."

"Perhaps. There's some experiments I've been meaning to catch up on..." He trailed off, seeing Milla smiling at him. "What?"

She shook her head again and took another drink, smiling into her glass. "Nothing."

They passed the rest of the time in a companionable sort of silence, broken only by occasional conversation and the low, consistent hum of noise from the other patrons. After a while, when Sasha looked at his watch and noticed just how late it was, they both paid the tab and left, Milla looping her arm through his as soon as they were out onto the sidewalk. The rain had finally let up and the weather was on the warm side--and the Underground had already shut down for the night anyway--so they walked back to the hotel, arm in arm the whole way.

While they were waiting for the elevator in the hotel lobby, Milla turned to him. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it? Actually taking time off to relax?"

"I suppose not," he admitted. She smiled.

"Good. Then we'll have to do it more often."

"Well, I never said--" he sighed, his protest cut short by the elevator's sudden arrival and Milla pulling him inside. It was just as well, he supposed--the protest was half-hearted to begin with.

Milla yawned and leaned against the elevator wall. "When's our first meeting tomorrow?"

"Nine thirty."

"Oh, good. I can sleep in." She closed her eyes and smiled, waiting until the elevator finally came to a stop on their floor to start looking for her keys. Sasha found his right away--they were in his left jacket pocket, exactly where he'd left them--but waited until Milla had found hers and had them in the door before making any movement towards his own room.

"Well...I'll see you in the morning, then."

She reached out and touched his arm, catching him so much by surprise that he nearly dropped his keys. "Sasha, darling...were--were you..." She stopped suddenly, shaking her head and turning away to hide the fact that she was blushing. "Oh, never mind."

"Was I what?" he asked, eyebrow raised. She shook her head again and started fumbling with the keys in the lock.

"I said never mind...it's nothing, really. I shouldn't have mentioned it in the first place. Never mind."

His other eyebrow raised. "Milla..."

She sighed and spit her words out all in a rush. "It's just that I thought--I thought, with Charles and everything...you seemed like you were jealous. But it's silly, I know, because I should know _you'd _never be jealous, and I don't see why you would be, it's just a thought I had, and it's silly, so just...never mind; I'll see you in the morning." She fumbled with the keys some more, trying to force the lock to turn the way she wanted it to so she could get out of the hallway.

It was only after the door finally popped open that she realized Sasha was still standing there. She stared down at her shoes and turned a shade of red bright enough to match her dress. "I shouldn't have said anything," she said quietly. And then again, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Milla, wait." She flinched but stopped with her hand on the door, half-turning back towards him. He cleared his throat, then hesitated, his face pinched into a faint, contemplative frown. Then, finally, "If--purely hypothetically, of course--if I were...jealous, why exactly should that matter to you?"

She sighed, nervously toying with the glove on her right hand. "Well, if we're speaking hypothetically--"

"We are."

"--well, then it might be because...hypothetically...it might mean that...well..."

He leaned against the wall next to her door, eyebrows still raised. "That I was in love with you? Hypothetically." She nodded slowly. When neither of them said anything for a long while, Sasha continued. "And if, in theory, your assumption were correct..."

"Then I suppose I'd be happy," she said, practically burning a hole in the floor just by staring at it, "because, hypothetically, I might...I might be in love with you, just too scared to say anything." She laughed weakly. "But that's silly, because you'd never--I'd never...I mean, this is all hypothetical, isn't it?"

Sasha straightened and smoothed out a wrinkle in his coat. "I'm not entirely sure. However, if you wanted to, you could link this to too much stress, a very long night, and possibly more alcohol than was good for either of us, in which case I would be willing to go to my room and forget this conversation ever happened, as it was entirely theoretical."

She hesitated, started to put her hand on the door, then stopped, then started to take a step closer towards him, then stopped again. Finally, she said, "What would happen if--if only one of us was being hypothetical? I mean--oh, you know."

There was a long pause before Sasha answered. "Then...it wouldn't be me."

Milla looked up from the floor, eyes suddenly very wide. "It wouldn't?" she asked, then without waiting for a response threw her arms around him and kissed him. She managed to catch him completely off-guard, and he staggered under the sudden extra weight, sending them both stumbling into the wall. Milla winced and started to pull away, stammering apologies, but Sasha, who had one arm wrapped around her waist, refused to let go. In fact, he pulled her in closer and offered an extraordinarily rare smile.

"I'm going to assume that none of what just happened was hypothetical."

She leaned her head against his chest, smiling faintly. "It wasn't."

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "so long as we've cleared that up..."

They stayed like that for a few moments, until a bleary-eyed tourist walked past them, stopped, stared, and then went on his way, shaking his head and muttering under his breath in German. Sasha looked down at the top of Milla's head. "Ah...perhaps it would be best if we got out of the hallway."

She looked up and kissed him again, grinning. "I was thinking the same thing." Without waiting for him to respond, she grabbed his keys, dropped them in her coat pocket, and then pulled him into her room by his jacket sleeve. Sasha nearly tripped over one of her suitcases on the way inside and grimaced, remembering the disorderly state her room was in.

"Could you at least do something about the mess?"

She laughed. "Later, darling."

* * *

_"And indeed there will be time  
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'"  
_ -- T.S. Eliot 


End file.
